


Pipe Dream

by Pennygirl612



Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Gen, Heavy Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29760891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennygirl612/pseuds/Pennygirl612
Summary: “You’ve never going to have that.”From their vantage point, Mozzie could see into the living room where Suit and Mrs. Suit were slow dancing by candlelight, the flickering flames just bright enough to illuminate two people moving together as one.  The picture-perfect scene of domestic bliss.Blue eyes remained fixated on the couple as Neal challenged Mozzie. “Why not?”Mozzie sighed.  Neal, ever the romantic, still believed a normal life was possible.  As his self-proclaimed mentor, Mozzie felt an obligation to straighten him out before further tragedy could befall upon his protege.  “It’s a pipe dream.  Not something meant for guys like us.”
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey & Mozzie, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	Pipe Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Scene takes place immediately following Elizabeth's safe return from her kidnapping by Matthew Keller in exchange for the Nazi treasure. Mozzie's one I've always steered clear of writing due to his complexity. Hopefully, I've not too far OOC with him in this story.

“You’ve never going to have that.”

From their vantage point, Mozzie could see into the living room where Suit and Mrs. Suit were slow dancing by candlelight, the flickering flames just bright enough to illuminate two people moving together as one. The picture-perfect scene of domestic bliss.

Blue eyes remained fixated on the couple as Neal challenged Mozzie. “Why not?”

Mozzie sighed. Neal, ever the romantic, still believed a normal life was possible. As his self-proclaimed mentor, Mozzie felt an obligation to straighten him out before further tragedy could befall upon his protege. “It’s a pipe dream. Not something meant for guys like us.”

At last, Neal turned his focus to Mozzie, eyes wide as he asked again, “Why not?” 

“Because we only end up hurting those we love. Look at what happened to Kate.”

Mozzie noticed the slight flinch at the mention of Neal’s former love; the rapid blinking of blue eyes; a solitary moment of vulnerability displayed before Neal could get his mask firmly back in place. That one instance was almost enough to make Mozzie feel guilty and probably would have if he had ever allowed himself to feel such emotion. Acknowledging guilt forced one to look back into the past, a dangerous move in Mozzie’s world where it was only safe to keep pushing forward, preferably remaining one step ahead of everyone else. 

And besides that, Mozzie didn’t bring up Kate to hurt his friend but to awaken him to the reality of what they had freely chosen. Yes, it may have been a cruel thing to say but finding Neal watching the Burkes like an envious, love-sick puppy dog proved its necessity. Guys like them were drifters; never meant to settle down or stay in one place too long. Already, Mozzie felt they had outstayed their welcome in New York, and he longed to move on, to tackle a new adventure. Preferably somewhere with a warm, tropical climate along with a sizeable wine cellar. 

Since his release from prison, Neal had used the anklet as his excuse for not leaving, but Mozzie recognized the lie even if Neal, himself, didn’t. Neal had become too caught up in make-believe evident when Neal used the stolen key to his anklet to go after Fowler rather than escape his handler’s leash. While the treasure should have been their ticket to freedom, Neal’s hesitation demonstrated he wasn’t ready to leave New York or who he had come to think of as his adopted family. What remained unclear was if the lie was for his benefit or if the con man had managed to con himself. Sadly, Mozzie suspected the latter.

A prolonged silence fell as they stood side by side, voyeurs into a life one openly distained while the other desperately sought. Mozzie wasn’t sure what he could say or do to convince Neal of the futility of his dream. Several quotes came to mind but were just as quickly abandoned. This did not feel like a good time to be waxing poetry. 

The weight of the moment was not lost upon him sensing they were at or near a crossroad, their continued partnership versus a new beginning. It unsettled Mozzie that for once he couldn’t read his friend and wasn’t confident which path Neal would take if forced to choose. Their history was long, a comfortable, established brotherhood amongst two orphan souls, but the pull from the Suit appeared nearly as strong and threatened to crack the very foundation of their partnership. Giving Neal an ultimatum would be unwise, yet the time for Neal to choose a side was near, a freight train bearing down on them all. 

Studying his friend, he recognized Neal wasn’t the same man since the airplane’s explosion, since nearly killing the person he had mistakenly deemed responsible for Kate’s death. Call it brainwashing or Stockholm Syndrome, these days Neal got up and went to work without question. He was a man seemingly content with this life, and at times, dare Mozzie say almost happy. And it broke Mozzie’s heart to see his friend deluding himself into thinking he had found a place here, to believe he was part of the team, that he had a future that someday could include a wife, children, and a white picket fence like some Norman fucking Rockwell painting.

His friend was suffering some form of insanity. Neal would never be accepted as one of them. He would always be a criminal as viewed through their Fed-born suspicious eyes and would only remain out of prison as long as he proved useful. As for his precious, do-gooder handler…wasn’t he constantly placing Neal in dangerous situations with seemingly little care of the consequences? Could Neal, as smart as he was, not see how expendable he was to them? 

Mozzie paused his line of thinking, reluctantly recognizing his assessment of the Suit hadn’t being fair. If he wanted Neal to open his eyes, then Mozzie had to be equally honest and admit the Suit did in fact care. He had witnessed the Suit put both his career and life directly in the line of fire for the sake of protecting his CI. More importantly, the Suit hadn’t openly tried to dissuade Neal from his friendship with Mozzie. As part of his parole, the Suit easily could have banned their consorting together. While he had never pretended to approve of Mozzie, the Suit had grudgingly agreed to accept Neal’s sidekick as a necessary evil if he wanted Neal to honor their deal. 

Although reluctant to admit it, Mozzie had come to tolerate the Suit’s increased presence in his life for much the same reason. Limited government oversight was a small price to pay to keep Neal out of prison. From his sideline perspective, the Suit was meticulous and carefully scripted every operation; never foraging ahead into the unknown with a throw caution to the wind attitude while Neal and his lack of impulse control, relied heavily on instinct and his ability to improvise. More often than not, the dangerous circumstances Neal found himself in were due to his going off script than the undercover operation itself being inherently risky. 

Time and time again, Mozzie had witnessed the lengths Neal would go to please the Suit, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Because of his unresolved daddy issues, Neal craved the approval from his surrogate father and was almost desperate in his need for the Suit’s attention. Somehow Mozzie had to get through to his friend, to remove his self-imposed blinders, before he got himself killed or worse yet, his spirit broke. At the very least, he had to try.

“The Suit’s never going to trust you. Every time something happens, he blames you.”

“Yeah, well, you stealing the Nazi treasure didn’t really help in that regard, now did it?” 

Neal’s comment was direct but not a hint of reproach was heard in his voice. He wasn’t passing judgement as much as stating a fact. And Neal was right. Stealing the treasure had seemed like a great idea at the time…hell, it still did if you discounted the unfortunate Keller kidnapping Elizabeth situation. But Mozzie should have hidden away the treasure for a rainy day after the anklet had come off and when Neal was out from direct influence of Mr. Morale Compass.

The theft had been the perfect score, conducted under the nose of world class con artist Vincent Adler and the premier law enforcement agency, the almighty F.B. I. Mozzie had wanted to share the victory with his mon frere, his brother. He had underestimated Neal’s loyalty to the Suit, and his desire to remain in New York had proven stronger than Mozzie had anticipated. All in all, the temporary rift the treasure caused between them was further proof of the Suit’s negative influence.

“We should go, mon frere.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of walking away?” Neal asked softly. 

“It’s the way it has to be.”

“To protect those we love.”

“To protect ourselves,” Mozzie corrected.

“Leave them before they leave us, you mean. Like your parents did you.”

It was Mozzie’s turn to flinch. That had been a low blow but searching his friend’s eyes, he saw no apology for the biting words. 

Pointing to the still dancing couple, Mozzie hit back. “Look at them. Do you really think you have a place in their world? They don’t see you for who you are!”

“No, they see me for who I could be! And they’re the only ones. Not my mother. Not my father. Not Kate. Not you, Moz. None of you thought I could be something more!”

Stunned by Neal’s outburst, Mozzie tried to dismiss Neal’s claim as more naïve foolishness. He didn’t want to consider his friend might be right. It would make Mozzie the delusional one that for his own selfish reasons kept Neal believing he could be nothing more than a con man, a criminal, someone like Mozzie. And then he’d have to ask himself why and the simple answer would be so he wouldn’t be alone. Again.

Moz followed his friend’s longing gaze back to the Burkes. They were still dancing, but to a faster tune allowing the Suit to spin his wife around. The delight captured on Mrs. Suit’s face when she was suddenly dipped low by her husband only to be snapped up close, pressed hard against his body made their bond, their love undeniable. They looked at each other the same way Mozzie had looked out over the Nazi treasure. The same way Neal was now looking back at the Burkes themselves. 

Mozzie heard a sigh and when he looked at Neal, his friend had turned away from the Burke home, a distant look captured on his face. Gone was the wistful expression. Gone was any semblance of joy or desire for what Mozzie thought to be unattainable. A lump formed in Mozzie’s throat. It was the most exposed he had ever seen his friend.

“You’re probably right, Moz. I’ll never be anything more than I am and this,” Neal waved his hand towards the Burke home, “is nothing more than a pipe dream.” 

Moz closed his eyes and took in a shaky breath. The defeat in his friend’s voice was like a swift, unexpected punch to the gut. He was certain one day Neal would need to make a choice and leave one of them, maybe even all of them, behind. The train was set in motion, was rolling down the tracks, but…it hadn’t arrived yet. There was still time for…well, Mozzie didn’t know. Life with Neal was often unpredictable. 

He was about to suggest they go home when Neal’s phone buzzed and Mozzie wasn’t surprised by the caller. It was as if the man had a sick sense of when he needed to pull on Neal’s strings, tighten the reigns to ensure Neal’s continued devotion.

“Peter.” 

Mozzie easily detected the false note of cheer in Neal’s voice. Neal, ever the performer, even now. In the past, he would have been proud at the way the kid could compartmentalize and stay on point. Today it just seemed…sad if not a bit heartbreaking. 

The Suit must have sensed something was off because Neal was reassuring the older man he was fine. Then Mozzie saw Neal’s eyes grow wide just before he whirled back in the direction of Casa Burke. And Mozzie didn’t need to look to know that the Suit was now standing in the doorway watching. 

“Okay…okay…wait what? Peter…okay…I’ll try.”

Mozzie heard a door close and looked up to find Neal silently staring at him, his expression guarded, hiding behind the mask once again. And Mozzie knew what was coming next.

“Go on inside,” he said, effectively giving his blessing for Neal to ditch him in favor of the Suit and Mrs. Suit. He was growing tired of fighting what seemed inevitable. 

“He wants…Peter invited you too.”

And that caught Mozzie off guard and created immediate suspicion. Why would the Suit invite him into his home? It had to be a trap, a set up to trick him into saying something incriminating. But Mozzie struck down that idea. The Suit was smart enough to know Mozzie would never let his guard down. 

His next explanation made his blood simmer. The invitation was made out of pity, most likely at Mrs. Suit’s insistence. But they had to know Mozzie’s pride would never let him accept under those circumstances. It was Neal they cared for, wanted to bring into their fold. Not a social misfit like him.

“Moz, come with me. It’s not a trap or out of misguided sympathy.”

“Mon frere, you are too naïve…”

“And you are too jaded.” Neal countered, softly. 

They stood staring, eyes locked both believing he was right and the other wrong. Neither willing to concede to the other. A full minute passed. Then they heard a door open and close followed by heavy, storming footsteps. 

“Neal, get inside.”

With the briefest of hesitations, Neal disengaged eye contact and obeyed his handler’s order. 

Mozzie ignored Peter focusing his attention on watching Neal, every step a bit lighter than the one before. And Mozzie knew all was lost. Neal would never choose him over Peter and the life he offered. 

“Don’t worry, Suit, I’ll go quietly into that good night.”

“Damnit, Mozzie! I just got my wife back and what she needs right now is to be surrounded by family. Hell, she’s already in the kitchen making tea; the one she only keeps on hand because she knows you like it. So, get your ass inside!”

A stunned and speechless Mozzie watched as Peter stormed back into the house without so much as another glance in his direction.

Family? Him? Neal he could understand, but the Burkes also considered him part of their extended clan? 

Mozzie forced one foot in front of the other until he was standing at the semi-open door. Inside, he could see a smiling Neal standing next to his now relaxed looking handler. As Mrs. Suit entered holding a mug of steaming tea, three sets of eyes turned in his direction. And Mozzie for the first time in his life felt…seen. 

All he had to do was walk through the door, and he could be part of something he never expected. He looked from Mrs. Suit, to Suit, to finally Neal. He nodded to his friend and turned away before he could see the disappointment reflecting in blue eyes. 

He wouldn’t—couldn’t—be caught up in a pipe dream. 

It wasn’t for guys like him. 

As for Neal… 

…maybe.


End file.
